


God of the Grove part 2

by Duchess_Of_Dumpsters



Series: Gay Gods [2]
Category: Hermitcraft RPF
Genre: Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Cinnabin, Fluff, Gods AU, M/M, Minor Character Death, Multi, My pen is a bit bloody, Permanent Death AU, Shipping, Someone get Impulse some braincells, Team Zit shipping to be exact, Wounds, injuries
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-21
Updated: 2020-05-21
Packaged: 2021-03-02 19:43:22
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 14,006
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24312172
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Duchess_Of_Dumpsters/pseuds/Duchess_Of_Dumpsters
Summary: That moment when your boyfriend is a god and everything is amazing and then oh oops there's badguys.
Relationships: Team ZIT - Relationship, zedaph/impulse/tango
Series: Gay Gods [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1755094
Comments: 46
Kudos: 132





	God of the Grove part 2

**Author's Note:**

> I want to let you all know that you have the wonderful AbschaumNo1 to think for this fic! After reading part one No1 here just, slapped me upside the head with an amazing plot idea and I couldn't not do it. so thank you!  
> And guys Please, if you haven't already, go check out their fics!

Impulse was careful, his balance practiced as he moved along the roof of the cabin. It was the first day clear of snow, with the thaw having brought a few leaks to his attention. He didn’t really mind though, the repairs were easy enough and besides. He glanced out over the clearing to where Tango and Zedaph were. He smiled, being up on the roof gave him a great view of what his two lovers were up to.

He forgot his work for a moment, watching as the two ran around like fools, laughing and throwing sticks for the tamed wolves to chase. It was a wonderful sight, honestly. Tango had been afraid for them at first, afraid how his love would affect them but as best Impulse could tell, nothing had happened to himself or Zedaph. In all honesty, Impulse couldn’t remember a happier time in his life. Remembering why he was up on the roof he tried to hurry and finish, not wanting to waste time when he could be down there with them. When he could be pinning one of them in a fresh patch of grass to shower in kisses.

If that wasn’t motivating to get his work out of the way he didn’t know what was. Really, the best part of life had been those quiet moments with Zedaph. Now that Tango had joined them though, there was even more in life to look forward to, more to hold close. Soon enough he was finished and climbing back down the ladder, only to be swept up in Tango’s arms before he set foot on the ground. He caught a glimpse of mischief dancing in the god’s eyes before their lips met in a kiss.

The whole world spun in an instant, his heart racing and fluttering all the harder when he felt Zedaph’s hands press against his back followed by Zedaph’s lips pressed to the base of Impulse’s neck. That caused him to moan softly into the kiss, a moan that turned into a whine as Tango pulled away.

“I have something to show you two.” Tango said, his words ghosted across Impulse’s face gently.

Before he had a chance to respond Tango had turned and suddenly Impulse felt himself get swept into the air, Zedaph right beside him. In a blink, they were high up, settled between the shoulders of their lover god. Tango had taken his deer form, standing four times the hight of a normal stag. Impulse ran his hands through Tango’s soft, glowy fur as the god of the grove set off. Impulse watched as the trees passed by, upon Tango’s back they were level with the tops of many of the evergreens. He let out a contented sigh when Zedaph leaned on him.

Soon they reached where the slopes got more craggy, the rocks sharp and jagged, the incline steep. Of course, the god glided up the incline like it was nothing. Impulse and Zedaph however, had never been up this way, for the years they had lived here. It had simply been too dangerous to climb this part of the mountain. It would have easily been hours, if not a full day’s climb if they had attempted it though. However, on Tango’s back they crested the top in a few short moments, there was a wide plateau of stone before it dipped down, dropping smoothly into a forested valley. The woods parted in the center for a clearing and a large pond. There were boulders scattered throughout, grass and flowers springing up between patches of snow that clung to the shadows of the trees. The pond itself was so clear that every stone on its bottom was visible, yet so crystalline that it reflected the sky above as well, Impulse had never seen water so pure in such a large quantity. The air here smelled just a bit fresher too, though all the mountain’s air was generally quite nice. To top it all off there was birdsong echoing out from the trees.

Tango carried them to the clearing by the pond and laid down so they could slide down from his back easily. There were birds that started gathering in his antlers almost instantly and slowly small woodland creatures came from the brush as well. Rabbits and foxes alike, sniffing at Impulse and Zedaph curiously, unafraid. Surprised Impulse reached down and gently petted one of the foxes as it investigated him.

“This place is beautiful.” Zedaph said, sitting in the grass beside Tango.

“This is my favorite place, I’ve never brought anyone here before.” Tango admitted, tilting his head a little. It was hilarious watching all the birds lean a little to stay balanced.

“Never?” Zedaph asked, leaning his head back to meet that red gaze.

“Not in all the years, this place has existed, not a single mortal soul. Until today.”

Impulse walked around Zedaph to drop down on the other side of Tango’s front leg. He draped his arms through the god’s fur and buried his face there.

“Thank you, for sharing this with us.”

“Of course! I love you both deeply, I’ve wanted to bring you for ages but it’s less impressive covered in snow.” Tango explained, laying his head down near both of them.

Impulse turned slightly, sinking against Tango to sit in the fresh spring grass. Truly, it was a blissfully peaceful afternoon and he’d share it with no one else, not a single other soul than these two did he enjoy more. Eventually Tango shifted forms again, laying with them in the grass and watching the clouds as they drifted above. Impulse shifted his gaze now and then, from the clouds to either of his lovers, to the vibrant trees or flowers glistening with melted snow. Some of the boulders were coated in moss, though under that he could see markings. Carvings. If they meant anything he wasn’t sure, but it wasn’t hard to imagine Tango getting bored and engraving them.

Glancing back to the sky, Impulse let out a contented sigh, he couldn’t help feeling that all was perfect. Never in all his life had he known such a comfortable peace, a warmth in the heart, an ease in the shoulders, he felt weightless, as if he could drift away on a soft spring breeze. It was the most beautiful feeling in all the world and it was one he just wanted to bask in forever. Perhaps he could, as nothing rose at the edges of his mind to tell him otherwise as would so often be the case. He couldn’t help wondering if the banishing of his doubts had anything to do with Tango’s divine presence. That seemed like a mystery that may never be answered and Impulse was fine with that. Just having Tango there with them, to love him and Zed as he did. That was enough.

As the setting sun crested the horizon Tango stirred, standing slowly. Impulse was still watching the clouds but Zedaph’s laughter drew his attention.

“What?” Tango asked, glancing down at them, seeing what Zed saw, Impulse laughed too.

“You have a friend.” Zedaph said between giggles.

“Oh?... oh!” Tango exclaimed after reaching up to his antlers.

Draped just out of the god’s line of sight was a rather comfortable looking fox. It was wound expertly around the points, draped in the curves of Tango’s antlers. It looked right at home and seemed to have no intention of moving its fluffy self.

“Buddy you can’t stay up there.” Tango said after a moment and Impulse watched as it cracked an eye open, glancing down at the god. There was a smug air about the creature and it snuggled down more, wrapping it’s little paws around one of the curves, clearly not going anywhere.

“I don’t think you’re getting rid of ‘em.” Zedaph chuckled and Tango sighed.

“Oh well.” Tango shrugged.

“There’s room enough at the cabin, this is fine.” Impulse assured him and Tango gave the gentlest of nods, careful not to dislodge the newest antler decoration. Tango stretched a little, strutting around a minute, careful yet seeming to test the fox’s hold. Finally he returned, catching Impulse and Zedaph’s hands in his own before shifting forms again. Impulse was getting used to the feeling of being pulled up into the air only to settle on Tango’s back. Glancing up at the bramble of antlers Impulse could see the fox draped over one of the curves, it still seemed right at home. Its cinnamon red coat stood out against the richer brown of Tango’s antlers.

Smoothly and steadily Tango strode back over the plateau, down the mountain towards their little clearing where the cabin was nestled. Slowly the area was bathed in darkness, a billion glittering stars in the sky above but none as brilliant as gems scattered through Tango’s antlers. The soft glow of those and Tango’s coat lit up the trees as they passed them, the light more noticeable with the snow gone.

Once they’d gone inside and Tango had returned to a more mortal-looking form the fox in his antlers finally stirred. It looked around, seeming curious it finally slipped down, hopping to a shelftop to sniff the items stored there. Tango laughed, watching the woodland creature.

“I suppose they’re staying… hm.” He said, looking thoughtful.

“Well if our new friend is going to be part of the family they need a name.” Zedaph noted.

“Cinnabin, we can call them Cinnabin.” Tango stated, reaching up to pet the fox only for it to noodle away and make an annoyed chatter at him. Tango retracted his hand, nearly doubling over with laughter.

“I see someone is going to fit right in.” Impulse chuckled, shaking his head before setting about making dinner. He didn’t mind the rustling and clanging as Cinnabin explored, knowing Tango was keeping a watchful eye on the new housemate. He did glance to see how his wolves were handling the new company and he was pleased to see they didn’t seem to mind the fox’s presence.

Curious, sure, but they were far from agitated and that was enough for Impulse to keep his relaxed attitude. He glanced Cinnabin’s way now and then, smiling to himself to see how the fox was adjusting to it’s chosen new home. It was adorable to see how they were either draped back in Tango’s antlers or bouncing across the couch, each time Impulse looked the fox had found a new place to explore.

After the hour had grown late, and dishes were cleaned and put away, Impulse noticed Cinnabin had gone from the top of the cabinets to the rafters, well balanced and surefooted. Perhaps Tango’s watchful presence was enough to cast the fear from animals too. He managed to convince them to come down before bed though.

Not that Impulse minded having a reason to look up, the vaulted ceiling he and Zedaph had spent warm summer evenings painting, giving the illusion at night that there was no roof above, four score and a dozen more stars painted on a blanket of dark blue. Since joining them Tango had hung a few glittering stones up there as well, akin to those on his antlers though Impulse couldn’t guess where exactly the god had retrieved them from. There was mostly a scattering of blue and clear ones, the blue ranging a little in it’s depth of color but there were a stone or two in green and one that was red. The red one was Impulse’s favorite, as it matched the god’s eyes.

Impulse’s attention fell from the ceiling though, when Zedaph took his hand and gave it a gentle pull. He smiled at his lover, needing no further encouragement to join Zedaph and Tango in bed. While the god didn’t need to sleep he’d clearly come to enjoy snuggling with them and holding the two while they slept. The comfort of having Tango there seemed to carry into sleep though, he couldn’t remember the last unpleasant dream he’d had.

Morning came with the soft rays of sunlight glittering through the stones on Tango’s antlers, the colors catching and scattering across the walls. Blues both light and dark, reds, greens, golds, pinks, it was beautiful. Not quite as beautiful as Tango’s soft, amused chuckle though. Impulse lifted his head from Zedaph’s chest, his other lover still asleep, to see Tango shifting his foot around under the blanket. Cinnabin stood at attention, watching with wide eyes before suddenly springing straight up into the air, arcing sharply and thudding back down. Tango snickered, wiggling his foot free only for the fox to chase again, digging at the blanket. It was an adorable sight, watching them play, one that redoubled the love that Impulse felt all over again. He wasn’t sure how that was even possible yet it always seemed to be happening. He glanced back to Zedaph’s sleeping face and felt there was no reason for his lover to miss out on the shenanigans happening right at their feet.

Impulse placed a gentle kiss right at the corner of Zedaph’s lips, then another further up his cheek, one more at his temple. Zed stirred after the third kiss, giving Impulse a sleepy smile. It was loving, warm and again Impulse felt that surge of redoubling love. He leaned in, just that little bit more to meet Zedaph’s lips with his own, granting him a long, savoring kiss that seemed to melt Zedaph further into the bed. Impulse went easy on him though, letting up after a moment despite the soft whine Zedaph let out. The giggling caught his attention though and now awake enough to look, a smile spread across his features as he watched. Impulse glanced back to the foot of the bed too, where Cinnabin was now wrestling Tango’s foot through the blanket like some prey to be claimed.

Later in the day Impulse set about using the warm weather to his advantage. Slipping outside to clean the windows, as he worked he noticed Zedaph sweeping the floor inside. Tango had vanished again, as he sometimes did but Impulse knew the god would be home again later. Impulse’s mind trailed, curious what exactly it was a god did when out and about, what sort of duties was it he had to attend to? Impulse didn’t know and wasn’t sure if he’d even understand if he asked.

A shout drew Impulse’s attention back through the window and he laughed at the sight before him. Zedaph’s sweeping had been interrupted by a rather springy fox, Cinnabin bouncing around before nipping at the broom. After another sweep the fox latched on and Zedaph heaved a sigh before just… continuing to sweep with a fox attached. To and fro the fuzzy little body went as Zedaph continued cleaning the floor, giggling at their refusal to let him sweep unprohibited.

Zedaph tried twice to return the broom to its place in the corner once he was done; only for Cinnabin to grab it and run through the house with it triumphantly as soon as his back was turned. It was honestly the most humorous thing Impulse had witnessed in years and he couldn’t shake the smile from his face if he’d wanted to. He was honestly glad the little red fox had decided to come home with them. Glancing out to the clearing around the cabin Impulse saw his tamed wolves, all running about and playing. They were enjoying the lack of snow as well, it seemed.

It felt as if the woods were waking up, bird song carried out on the gentle wind. Trees all standing just a little taller without the weight of ice to pull at their limbs, the grass spreading far and wide all a-scatter with flowers. It felt as if the whole mountain was coming alive with a new song, more beautiful than it ever had before. It was so peaceful that Impulse couldn’t find reason to question it, only enjoy it. So the day went, calm and relaxed with lazily paced housekeeping and animal shenanigans.

It was late in the evening when Tango finally returned, a small bouquet of spring flowers carefully carried in one hand and a few new gems for the ceiling in the other. There was a warmth, a love in his eyes as he presented the gifts to Impulse and Zedaph and neither wasted any time in showering the god in kisses. From there Impulse helped hang the gems from the ceiling while Zedaph settled the new flowers in a vase of water. Impulse was downright cheerful as he hung the little, golden hexagonal crystals in their place among the stars.

With the last string tied securely Impulse dropped down, looking up at all the glittering stones catching and throwing lantern light. Those few gems gave the ceiling mural that much more life, between the light they scattered and the depth they added hanging up there. Gently some swayed in the breeze that swept through the windows before Zedaph closed them. To say Impulse wasn’t sleepy would have been a lie, so it was all the sooner he was taking his lovers by the hands and dragging them off to bed. He was more than pleased by the kisses Zedaph placed along his neck, Tango’s hands wandering as they piled onto the bed. The love the three of them shared was like nothing else in the world, Tango’s presence carrying them past the confines of mortal emotion to something… more.

\--

Impulse’s dreams drew him out into the darkness of the forest, he ran, ran like the wind, part of the pack. A wolf, just like those around him. The scents of the forest were heightened, the sounds louder yet more refined, his heart raced as he ran. Between trees, over stray boulders, through remnants of snow.

Then a new smell reached his nose, one pungent and wicked, one that spoke of danger. He followed the smell, worry gripping his heart. He passed many an animal as they fled the source and soon it became clear, a source that rose like a demon. Bright, raging fire, tearing through the forest in a frenzy. Smoke blinded him, stung his nose he turned to run, it was so hot, he could barely breathe. Then… then he stood far above, no, he stood far taller, the points of his ears equal with the trees that had yet to burn. He stood tall and incorporeal, watching the forest burn, something past the fire caught his eye and he started to move towards it…

He wanted to see…

He needed to know…

He…

Woke up.

Impulse blinked in confusion, meeting the amber eyed gaze of Cinnabin as they stared at him. He muffled out a sound that might have been a word and the fox huffed at him, bouncing away. He grunted as they struck him right in the middle before bounding off the bed. His dream was fading but the image of the forest fire stirred a level of panic he hadn’t felt in some time. Sitting up he glanced the room, both his lovers were already up though he was alone. Slowly he drew himself up, finding his lovers in the larger room of the cabin. He smiled, his heart warmed by the sight of them.

Zedaph was cooking breakfast, talking very quietly and Tango was doing much the same, the two being careful not to wake Impulse, Cinnabin had ruined those plans though. With a soft chuckle Impulse joined Tango on the couch, much like the god’s first morning there, and gently kissed his cheek.

“Oh look who decided to wake up.” Tango laughed, wrapping an arm around Impulse.

“How could I sleep in when you two are waiting on me?” Impulse asked, resting his head on Tango’s shoulder.

“Fair question.” Tango admitted, turning his head to kiss the top of Impulse’s.

Zedaph brought plates over to the table and reluctantly Impulse moved that way. He caught Zedaph’s arm before his lover could sit down though, drawing him close for a kiss. Zedaph wrapped his arms around Impulse, tilting his head just enough to deepen the kiss, leaving Impulse’s heart to race yet again. To race like…

He jumped a little, pulling away from the kiss unexpectedly as the memory of smoke and ash flashed through his mind.

“Are you okay?” Zedaph asked softly, concerned. Impulse looked to Tango.

“I-is the forest safe?” Impulse asked, causing the god to tilt his head a little.

“All is well, we can go on a walk after breakfast, if you’d like.” Tango offered.

“I would, that would help, a lot.” He admitted, trying to get his nerves to settle.

He fell silent as he ate breakfast, trying to dredge up more of the dream, but the details just wouldn’t come. He heaved a sigh, having missed most the chatter between Zedaph and Tango. Plates couldn’t be cleaned and put away quick enough, he felt so anxious to walk the forest, to see for himself there were no blazes eating away at the evergreens.

Near a dozen tamed wolves and one fox fell into step with the three as they left the cabin behind. Impulse held to one of Tango’s hands, Zedaph held the other and together they walked towards the line of trees to the south of the cabin. Together they stepped into the woods that stretched and wrapped down that side of the slopes, wrapping sharp rising stone that towered and shadowed the valley below.

As they went something about the trees felt familiar yet off, boulders seemed more steady in his mind though still he couldn’t recall much of the dream. Just the fire, the smell of burning wood. However there were no signs of such a tragedy, the forest was filled with the song of birds, the rustling of light breezes. The smell of the evergreens trying to drown out the scent of fresh blooming flowers, little blossoms on bushes promising a bounty of fruit later in the season. Taking that in, Impulse realized he’d never seen the forest flora so vibrant and thriving before. It was almost as if something had changed… almost as if the forest itself was happier. That matched his thought from the day before and he found himself glancing to Tango. As they walked he read the happy smile settled comfortably on the god’s features.

Tango was the god of the grove after all, perhaps all the mountain benefited from its deity being happy, that would make some level of sense, he supposed. He didn’t get the chance to ponder further though, as a snapping twig drew his attention, Tango’s as well from the way the god stopped. There was a small gasp from the source of the sound and Impulse found himself surprised. No one else lived up on the mountain, but there was a village tucked into a clearing in the forest at its base. He hadn’t thought they’d strayed anywhere close and yet, here before them was a child. She was a small girl, no more than the age of five, her long black hair was pulled back in a loose braid, one that had a few pine needles caught in it. Her sharp, emerald eyes had locked on Tango’s antlers, leaving an expression of awestruck wonder on her tearstained face.

She must be lost, Impulse realized, from the smears of dirt on her little purple dress and the distance from the village, it was all that made sense. She looked surprised, but not afraid, her gaze slowly trailing down from the antlers to either side, glancing himself and Zedaph.

Slowly Tango released both their hands, taking a step towards the girl before kneeling to meet her gaze better. Though, he was still a large presence in comparison.

“You’re far from home, little one.” He said softly.

She glanced from him to the woods around and bit her lip, seeming unable to find the words, or perhaps the voice, to speak. Impulse couldn’t blame her, not with a literal god before her.

“It’s okay, it isn’t as bad as you think…” Tango said, glancing from her to look towards the base of the mountain, the direction of the village.

She turned slightly to look that way as well but quickly looked back.

“They’re looking for you, your mother is worried sick.” Tango noted gently and glanced back to her.

She frowned, looking a little uncertain still and scratching at the forest floor with one foot.

“Listen. No mistake is unforgivable, no accident can’t be fixed. Words can cut deep, but they can also heal. Your family will forgive you, but they’ll never forgive themselves if you leave them forever.” He explained, sounding like he was unraveling the mysteries of the universe itself with the depth to his tone.

The little girl looked up at him with an expression of contemplation like only a child could, the uncertainty seeming to lift from her green eyes.

“Time to go home, that way.” Tango said, pointing towards the village.

She nodded a little, hesitant to completely walk away but finally she started off. Tango stood and with a small motion of his hand Impulse watched the entire forest change, no, he realized, they’d moved. The little girl didn’t seem to see it but now they were much closer to the village. Impulse could hear worried voices calling out what he presumed to be the girl’s name.

“Gertrude!” The name rang out over and over, after a woman, sounding worried, voice ragged from yelling, the girl perked up.

“Mama!” she cried back, rushing towards the voice. Tango turned, catching his lover’s hands in his and they started back up the slope together.

Impulse stole one last glance behind him and saw a woman who looked much like the girl scoop the child up in her arms. For the briefest of moments his eyes met hers and he saw a look of pure bewilderment cross her features. Then, before a single question could be voiced, Tango pulled them back home in a blink, likely vanishing before the villager’s eyes.

“You really are kind hearted.” Zedaph said softly as they approached the door.

“Hm?” Tango hummed questioningly.

“Just… the way you handle things, the things you do, no matter how big or small. It really shows how kind you are.” Zedaph explained.

“He’s right.” Impulse agreed, wrapping his arms around Tango from behind and burying his face in the god’s back.

“I… It really isn’t anything special… I couldn’t just leave the kid to wander the woods to end up hurt or worse.” Tango pointed out quietly, seeming unsure how to handle the praise.

“The fact that a god like you can show compassion for lives as mortal as ours, it means a lot.” Zedaph explained.

“Every life has its importance, now matter how brief.” Tango said in a gentle tone and Impulse felt it as Tango pulled Zedaph into a hug, shifting slightly to wrap an arm around Impulse. He sank into the embrace, wiggling an arm free to wrap around Zedaph. His heart felt whole, his life felt complete, nothing could compare to having the both of them, there with them. He loved them so deeply he could no longer see the beginning and the end was nowhere in sight.

Days and nights, they passed by like the flicker of candle light. Impulse watched as the season wore on and the forest and valleys flourished. The animals seemed to thrive, no lack of food for any of them. The flora was near out of control, the trees more healthy then he’d ever noted before, not a hint of dead wood in sight. Despite the grasses going wild and growing nearly to hip height in some places Impulse noticed that there wasn’t much issue from biting insects, not for him, nor the wolves, or even Cinnabin. Then there were the flowers, as the season progressed, everywhere Impulse looked, flowers, even ones normally more rare were popping up in droves. Ones he knew were good for healing and hard to find, those grew thick around the cabin.

Days turned to weeks, Impulse saw many a happy bee blundering through the flowers on the warmer days. There were deer that ventured close to the clearing, unafraid and one day, while out on a walk Impulse noted a hunter half way up the mountain. The hunter was likely from the village and the look Impulse was given gave the impression that the Hunter thought he’d found the impossible. It was strange but Impulse didn’t call out to him, instead watching him sink into the brush and hurry away. It was odd, really, but then, perhaps having been seen with Tango before had left some sort of impression. It was all that really made sense but he didn’t think much of it.

That was, until a few days later, on a warm night when Tango came to the cabin, his laughter ringing through the cricket song long before he actually stepped through the door. It was with a basket looped over one arm, something unusual to see, but that was set down on the table soon after he’d strode through the door.

“What has you in such a chipper mood?” Zedaph asked curiously.

“The village, they’ve set up an altar in the woods, they’ve started leaving gifts there.” Tango explained, motioning towards the basket of bread, a jar of honey settled in the middle.

“Oh, that’s wonderful!” Zedaph exclaimed.

“Is this something new?” Impulse asked, slightly surprised. He didn’t know much about the village, he and Zed hadn’t even passed through it on their way here, but somehow the thought of them not venorating the god of the grove struck him as odd.

“It has been a very, very long time. I think for a while the people of the forest forgot I was here, I think perhaps I was a bit too quiet. Now though, now they remember, I am more than a myth. I’m not the only one they honor though.” Tango admitted, a wry grin tugging at his features.

“What do you mean?” Impulse asked, tilting his head a little, Zedaph casting as much of a curious look at the god.

“The altar is meant for all three of us.” Tango said, the smile breaking wide across his lips.

“But… but we’re not.” Zedaph pointed out, taken aback and a little startled, Impulse felt much the same.

“Ah, let them have their three gods while they can, and… let me have my two. While I can.” Tango said, his tone going more gentle towards the end, his expression taking a sad tinge.

Impulse stood, sweeping forward to wrap Tango in a hug and he felt Zedaph join him a breath later.

“We may not be gods… but we love you all the same.” Zedaph said softly as Tango hugged them back.

“There’s no harm in letting them believe of us what they will.” Impulse added, meeting Tango’s gaze. He seemed to relax, falling back on his usual, casual cheer. All the world seemed to fade away in that moment and once again it was just the three of them, it was just soft kisses and warm hearts, it was breathless whimpers and soft words. A gentle touch sending hearts all aflutter, like petals on the breeze. Tango’s kisses still made the world spin, bringing the stars down to caress the mountains. There were few ways to put to words the feelings the god instilled, feelings Impulse knew were mirrored within Zedaph as well.

It is said that time moves faster when life is enjoyable, Impulse found he could attest to that, for what seemed like barely more than a blink, the summer months were gone. He savored each moment as it came, never finding want to be anything but blissful. Still, with so much going well, with so much peace and happiness in each day it was difficult not to love it all. Time hardly mattered, only the smiles and soft moments with his two lovers. The soft warm evenings, the laughter, the sweet nothings and the lazy moments, laying in the grass staring up at the clouds. On afternoons where the wind was still as the three of them lazed about beside the hidden pond, accompanied only by bird song. Those moments came and they went and Impulse would treasure all of them for the rest of his life. That wasn’t to say there wouldn’t be more, no, there would, but he’d hold those just as tightly.

It wasn’t until the first snow that Impulse realized just how fast time had flown by. He couldn’t find it in him to be bothered though, since he knew just how worth it his time had been. The change in season simply brought a change in routine, of long lazy mornings spent cuddling in bed, of quiet days spent stoking the fire, of hearty stews and warm drinks. The weather seemed just as harsh and yet somehow the bounty of the mountain didn’t wane, it was their most comfortable winter by far. Impulse and Zedaph quietly agreed this had to be something to do with Tango, with him being happy. And he was, happy, as there wasn’t a moment he was with them that there wasn’t a joyful glint in his eyes, a loving warmth.

The village still left their offerings to the God of the Glade and his lovers. Tango would often return with said offerings, with baskets of bread and other foods, with simple handmade trinkets or simply kind prayers written on paper. That was until several days into the cold winter months when Tango arrived with a pair of sheep. He seemed as amused as ever, letting Zedaph take their leads while handing a paper prayer to Impulse. Zedaph was already doting on the woolen critters as Impulse started reading.

‘Oh mighty wolf of the woods, hear our plea. We willingly bestow these hearty beasts so you might see mercy and keep your packs away from our herds this winter.’

Impulse read the note a few times over, his brows knitted in confusion before he looked back to Tango.

“I… they’ll be dissapointed, I don’t have any sway over the wild wolves or where they hunt.” Impulse pointed out worriedly.

“Won’t hurt to ask, go ahead and speak to the packs, I think they’ll respect you.” Tango suggested.

“I- I guess, if you’re sure.” Impulse said quietly, glancing out at the snow coated trees.

“Uh, Tango, don’t you find it a bit concerning that they're giving live animals now?” Zedaph spoke up after a moment, still absently scratching one of the sheep behind the ear.

“What do you mean? Don’t you like them?”

“Well of course, they’re brilliant! But that’s not the point. What if they get carried away, what if they start trying to sacrifice peo-” Zedaph went on but Tango cut the sentence short.

“Then I would have a very stern talking to with my little priestess.” Tango said firmly, crossing his arms. Clearly against any such practice. He didn’t look terribly concerned that it would be a problem.

Zedaph nodded, letting the matter drop, he seemed satisfied with that. Impulse watched as Zed returned to doting on the new pets, and with a soft chuckle, went to gather supplies to build the sheep a shelter. With it just being the two they wouldn’t need much.

Soon things fell to a quiet routine, of Zedaph slipping away early in the morning to care for things, of Tango lazing around late into the morning only to vanish for part of the day. The god always returned late in the evening, sometimes with offerings, sometimes with his more normal gifts. In a blink the colder months, the evenings of blazing hearth and biting wind seemed to fade. Before Impulse had time to consider it, the snow was starting to wain yet again. Dripping from the trees to turn to long, angry icicles come nightfall, then be gone a few days after. So soon came the gentle breath of spring, of wild greens and a chaotic splash of color.

It felt like Winter had gone by in a flash, yet here came spring again, before he was quite prepared for it. It was almost jarring, the shift in routine, but it wasn’t too big, less time spent in the cabin and much more spent outside. Like the evening he found himself sitting outside, leaned against the wall of the cabin and looking past the eves of the roof, out at the open sky and glittering stars. The ground was still damp from the dissipating snow but not so muddy as to be intolerable. The evening was cool and crisp, smelling of damp earth, of the evergreens free of their icy prisons, of an overabundance of flowers just starting to bloom. It was quiet, peaceful, a slow moment like so many others and Impulse couldn’t quite put his finger on how he managed to savor every moment while still feeling like they’re all gone too quick.

Within a few days Impulse truly came to notice a difference in the mountain, if he’d thought the previous year had been bountiful, this one seemed redoubled. It again felt like a reflection of Tango himself, always smiling, always seeming so comfortable and content. Every kiss carried with it a level of wild abandon, of holding nothing back and so too, the mountain seemed to hold nothing back. As the days warmed up the wildlife, the flora and fauna went absolutely mad. There wasn’t a place Impulse looked at any point in the day when he didn’t see happy animals or buzzing bees somewhere in the woods. The clearing around the cabin had become a field of flowers above all else. The sacred grove up at the top of the mountain also showed a reflection of Tango’s happiness.

Many a lazy afternoon was spent in that place, out of mortal reach, with the pond of glittering, pure water. Impulse sat back to back with Zedaph, weaving intricate flower garlands, garlands that they then wove through Tango’s antlers. While weaving flower after flower sometimes Impulse would notice the carvings on the mossy stones glowing softly. Each time he noticed it he glanced to Tango, always noting the amount of love and adoration there. The god was absolutely smitten and Impulse could honestly say the feelings were mutual.

Each evening Tango carried them back down to the cabin, the gems in his antlers glowing softly, the flowers would remain for days or even weeks, not wilting. They’d walk the woods together like that, with his antlers all dressed in vibrant flowers and occasionally a certain red fox. Sometimes the sheep would accompany them on their walks through the woods, though mostly they stayed near the cabin. There was always at least one wolf by Impulse’s side, he soon realized, that sometimes they’d be joined by ones that weren’t of his taming. Tango had been right, the wolves of the woods respected him. It was surreal in so many ways and yet he didn’t even want to question it. He just wanted to enjoy it all. It was life too perfect to be real. Perhaps he’d died alongside Zedaph that night in the blizzard, trapped in that icy cavern, perhaps he simply remembered it wrong and this was the afterlife.

Impulse cast the thought aside though, for all the happiness and love, there was still enough reality to remind him he was very much alive. With each breath he drew in, with every snapped twig under his feet… with every soft kiss on his neck, with each soft breath of one of his lovers curling over his lips. Perhaps that was part of what had come to make life feel impossible, but he didn’t care. All that mattered was knowing the love of these two for as long as his mortal life would last. He tried not to think about what would happen to Tango when Zedaph and himself were eventually old and steadily making their way towards the afterlife for real.

So instead he focused on each day as it came, treasuring it while it lasted, happily watching as the seasons drifted past in their lazy circle that seemed to pass so quickly. Winter came again, dence snow, howling winds, then it would be over, the mountain redoubling in its wealth of greenery, its clarity of water, its thriving population of animals. Somewhere along the way Impulse noticed that the trees had grown taller, sturdy and strong, they now stood well above the height of Tango’s shoulders in deer form, above Impulse’s head, closer to Tango’s ears. It was yet another thing that Impulse realized must mean how well Tango was doing. Whether it was simply how happy he was or the strength of the village’s belief in him, Impulse wasn’t sure.

Really, he was just happy to see Tango doing so well at all. It was an odd thing to think back on, to see it now, the loneliness that had lurked in Tango’s eyes, the strange, spooky aspect of a god forgotten. He hadn’t been weak, far from it, but he hadn’t been at his full potential and Impulse wondered just what that was. Each time he thought the mountain couldn’t become more beautiful it did. The runes carved up in the sacred grove were almost always aglow now, any time they went. The flowers seemed almost to outdo their own beauty from the years prior. Truly even the village down at the foot of the mountain seemed to be thriving any time they went close enough to see. Life had become better than he could have dreamed of and he wouldn’t have changed a thing, not a single thing.

It was bliss.

Until that bliss came to a screeching halt.

Until the moment when…

When…

Worry returned.

….

…..

…...

He woke sharply one morning, shaking aside the smell of smoke that lingered in his mind from his dreams. Quickly he saw the source of what had disturbed him, Zedaph was similarly troubled. Between them was a sight neither had thought possible, neither would have expected and Impulse’s heart felt like it was caught in his throat.

Tango….

Was in pain.

Curled in on himself…

Writhing in pain.

“Tango?” Impulse asked softly, resting a hand on Tango’s shoulder, gently.

“What… are they doing?” Tango grunted, sounding dazed as much as pained.

“Who?” Zedaph pushed, tone dripping with worry.

“Their scent is… unfamiliar…” Tango explained, sounding like it took effort to identify the source of his agony. “What… are they… doing? I don’t understand… it… it hurts…”

“Where are they? Can you tell?” Impulse asked, gently rubbing soothing circles on Tango’s back.

“Near…. Near the village but… not… of the village.” He managed to explain.

Impulse looked from Tango to Zedaph, there was a look in his lover’s eyes, a feeling mirrored in himself. Of fear, of worry, but also of outrage, of a silent urge to stop whatever was happening.

Ever so gingerly Impulse leaned down and kissed Tango on the temple.

“We’ll figure out what’s going on.” Zedaph assured softly before he too, planted a soft kiss on the god’s cheek.

“Please… be careful.” Tango muttered, half breathless. It was clear this kind of pain was something he wasn’t accustomed to, whatever was happening, it hadn’t happened before.

In a blink Impulse was up, dressed and heading for the door, snatching his hunting bow on the way. He could hear Zedaph right behind him, doing exactly the same. Impulse gave a soft howl, all of his tamed wolves falling into step with them as they left the cabin. Into the woods as the morning sun was just starting to crest the horizon. Quickly, as they went, more and more wolves gathered, joining them as if they simply knew something was wrong. As if they felt needed. As they neared the village, Impulse realized nearly the entire wolf population of the mountain had joined them.

Nearer to the village still, they slowed down, creeping past the altar, edging through the brush and the treeline. Peering out Impulse spotted lines of horse drawn carts, some empty, some loaded with cargo covered with tarps. There was shouting, a tall, angry looking man who was clearly not from the village was in a heated argument with a woman who was. She looked a lot like Gertrude, but being in her mid twenties, Impulse guessed her to be an aunt or something. Despite the shouting, there was too much other noise, Impulse couldn’t make the words out exactly.

Scowling at that Impulse moved further along the treeline, not stepping out into sight yet. Carefully he followed the road, freshly cut. There were trees that had been ripped out, cut down, uprooted and piled off to the side. Quickly Impulse spotted why, he spotted the reason for clearing the trees. They’d cleared a path to a small cave, a cave that many a man was tearing into with pickaxes to widen. There was enough activity to suggest some of the men were inside. There was shouting as a man came free of the dark cavern, running across the road and past the horses, towards the angry man.

“Boss!” He shouted above the noise, the ringing of axes and the rattle of saws slowed.

“What is it?” He barked, turning away from the village woman who scowled at them all.

“It’s true, look sir.” The worker said, holding up... 

Impulse’s heart dropped.

He was holding one of the gems that Tango occasionally brought home, a gem like those on his antlers. It sparkled a deep blue in the sunlight.

“So it is.” the angry man said with a pleased smirk, taking the gem to examine it.

“That is not yours to take!” The woman snapped.

“You’re not welcome here!” Came a shout from one of the other villagers. The man turned his attention back on them.

“Shut your simpleton mouths before we set your paltry little settlement ablaze.” He shouted back in a threatening tone.

Impulse didn’t doubt the evil looking man would do exactly that. The villagers looked between each other, seeming to feel hopeless, powerless, they looked to the woman then, as if she’d have the answers. She stood strong, stubborn.

“You’ll anger the gods. This place, my people, we’re protected and should you continue harming our home, you will suffer.” She stated firmly. The man snorted.

“Oh, I’m just scared stiff, gods, as if! Take your fairy tales somewhere else, little girl, preach at someone who cares.” He said dismissively.

“Mark my words.” She growled, furious but he turned away from her.

“We came for the lumber, with the rumor of gems and boys, we’re staying for the stones! We’ll be rich men by the summer’s end!” He called out to his crew.

“Are we clear to start blasting sir?” Another worker called.

“Start setting the charges.” He confirmed.

_ Blasting _

_ Charges _

Impulse sucked in a sharp breath, glancing to Zedaph who had gone pale. Impulse turned, quietly growling out a warning to the army of wolves to stay far and clear of the cave entrance but to keep eyes on the situation. That done, Impulse broke into a dead run, Zedaph not far behind him. Together they rushed hard back up the mountain, the wind in Impulse’s ears, he’d never run so fast in his life. His lungs burned, his feet beating the ground under him, pushing him each long step in a near reckless fashion. Somehow he didn’t trip, somehow he didn’t falter, he didn’t stop to catch his breath. The distance was no small amount, but the early summer, the tall grasses were far easier to cut right through than blankets of snow.

He’d lost track of just how many years he’d lived here, but he knew the mountain, the woods, better than the back of his own hand. His heart raced, fear gripped him with icy needles that defied the warm summer morning. He hit the door running, nearly knocking it from the hinges as he barreled through. Impulse skidded to a stop in the middle of the room, Zedaph crashing into his back but Impulse remained standing as his lover regained balance.

Tango was sitting at the kitchen table, his breaths slow and carefully controlled, his expression blank. It seemed like his focus was on adjusting to the pain, trying to get enough control to function again. The flowers wrapping his antlers had all wilted, dropping dried petals to the floor, the gems seemed to have lost a bit of their luster.

“Tango.” Impulse said, not as breathless as he expected himself to be.

The god looked up at them, he seemed a bit more neutral as he focused on them, like he was able to shove some of the pain aside.

“They’re tearing out trees, getting ready to start mining.” Impulse explained, barely keeping the absolute rage out of his tone, it left him shaking though.

“They’ve threatened the village and it sounds like they intend to cut the entire forest down.” Zedaph added, sounding both upset and afraid. Pained understanding filled Tango’s features and he moved to stand, slow, but resolute. Shoulders squared, back straight, he looked to them both, features set in a grim expression.

“We’ll stop them. I won’t go down without a fight, I won’t let my grove be destroyed, my mountain be stripped of its life’s blood. I have more than enough reason to keep living and I will not simply roll over and die.” Tango said firmly, his voice laced with pain but set firm.

“Let’s hurry, before they can do much more-” Zedaph was saying but he was interrupted by a loud sound not unlike thunder in the distance. It rippled and reverberated, a long series of explosions. In time with them, Tango’s face twisted with agony and he cried out in anguish.

“Tango!” Impulse cried in unison with Zedaph, both reaching for their god.

“ **_I’m going to kill them._ ** ” He spat, eyes going a bloody shade of red, teeth bared and suddenly looking very sharp. His human form suddenly looked a lot less… human.

He…

_ He was terrifying. _

Before either could do anything more Tango was moving, then he was gone, the door left swinging and Impulse was fast to dart after, just in time to see the massive deer vanish into the trees. With only a glance to make sure Zedaph was following Impulse broke into a run yet again, weariness the furthest thing from his mind. He was worried, he was  _ angry _ but, worst of all… was a boiling dread.

Dread for whatever lay ahead, dread for whatever fate awaited the grove and its god. Dread that the next sunrise might hold a whole different world.

He didn’t want to think about what that world might hold, about what might change.

No.

He just kept running, running forward with reckless abandon, running forward even as the mountain shook, ringing with more explosions. It seemed excessive, far too much, dangerous. What did these greedy fools hope to accomplish?

As they neared the village, neared the mining camp, Impulse could hear shouting, screaming… and then an ethereal screech that could have been rage or could have been pain. He couldn’t tell which, he could only discern one thing.

It was Tango.

That only spurred him on faster, running with everything he had in him. This time he broke free of the treeline, quickly surveying the situation. The village people were a chaotic scramble, there was a building on fire. Some seemed to be trying to put it out while others were grabbing up whatever weapons they could find. Rakes, shovels, pitchforks. Once armed they were falling into step behind the woman from before. Her purple dress swayed as she walked. Glowing bottles of thin glass in her hands, her only weapon, a knife belted at her side, it’s handle made of antler, the pummel, a green gem. With her earlier stance, Impulse was certain it was something Tango had to have given to her.

Looking the opposite way showed the destructive visitors, more trees had been brought down, some in the process of being prepared as support for the mines. The crew themselves seemed to be in a panic, and following where they were running from it was no wonder why. Tango was there, making his way into the cave, stomping, screeching and battering the men around. Most ran, some coulding get clear before a well placed kick sent them flying, like Cinnabin playing with a cricket. It was satisfying to see them hit the ground hard and go rolling, Impulse had to admit.

With a smirk, Impulse let out a howl, no small sound as he held nothing back in summoning the army of angry canines. The command one his tamed wolves knew, and he was certain the rest would follow suit, his confidence was well placed. A fury of fur and fang poured out of every corner of the woods, running alongside the villagers, fighting at their side as they attacked. The expanded clearing quickly became a battlefield and Impulse lost track of who was where. Glancing back to the village he saw that Zed had gone to try and help get the fire under control, it had spread to part of the forest and consumed another house though. He didn’t like the looks of the fire, or their odds of stopping it, but for now, he had to hold out hope that Zedaph’s aid would be worth something.

Drawing his bow he turned his attention back to the main fray, firing carefully aimed arrows, making sure not to hit any allies. He heard a shout, his attention snapping that way next, just in time to see as the ringleader of this crew struck the Priestess hard. She hit the ground and didn’t move. The man, with a cut on his face, snorted at her before turning away. Dread rose again and Impulse took aim, he took aim as the man reached for some piece of equipment nearby. Impulse let the arrow fly… but it struck home after the man pulled a lever. He snarled out in pain with an arrow buried in his shoulder and wolves closing in.

But the damage was done.

A huge explosion roared out, shaking the mountain, followed by an agonized screech and the sound of falling stone.

Smoke and dust billowed out in the wake of silence.

The battle went still.

The fire continued spreading.

The dust cleared…

The entrance had collapsed.

Even the wolves seemed shocked, looking to Impulse, seeming uncertain if this meant the battle was lost. Impulse wasn’t sure how to respond in that moment, an agonized wave of grief flooding him, his hands trembling. His stomach twisted into knots and his skin prickled with an icy numbness. He hesitated.

He  _ froze _ .

In that moment.

His enemy took the chance to run.

The murderer of a god tried to make his escape.

Tried.

The villagers, the wolves, they blocked his path, herding the man into the woods instead. Smoke stung through the air, sharp and bitter. Heat rose towards the heavens in billowing black clouds.

And that was the moment grief twisted into rage. The moment pain became fury. The moment hope felt lost and there was nothing left to lose. Like the twang of a bowstring far too tight, Impulse launched into motion. With a snarl more primal than one would think humanly possible… He chased his prey. Teeth bared and bow in a white knuckle grip, he gave chase right into the burning forest.

He crashed through ash and flame without a second thought, his blood felt like it was boiling with rage, leaving the fire to hardly seem noticeable. Each racing footfall propelled him closer to his target and he reached for an arrow, then loosed it into the air. The man moved just luckily enough to catch the arrow in his arm and not his back. Impulse snarled as the man broke free of the treeline into the small clearing with the altar. Everything was a roaring blaze all around and the man hesitated, uncertain where to run. Impulse reached for another arrow as he stalked into the clearing… and found he had none left.

The man seemed to realize there was no escape, turning to face Impulse and drawing his sword with his undamaged arm. Impulse slung the bow over his shoulder, drawing his hunting knife. He held no hesitance as he rushed in, no thoughts on defense, only on inflicting as much damage as fast as he possibly could.

Faster than the fool realized, Impulse was within his reach, blade swinging in hard. The man twisted away, trying to dodge but still getting grazed. Impulse flipped the blade in his hand and stabbed back the other way, attempting to bury the knife in the side of the man’s throat. However the sword came up to bare too quickly in the tight space. The sound of steel on steel rang out in the smoke filled clearing as flames licked ever closer. Impulse caught the sword blade against the guard of his knife, it was a small space and one wrong move would lose him fingers, but he was determined to throw the blade out wide. However, once he did the man kicked him, knocking Impulse back a step. Snarling, Impulse rushed right back forward again, barely wavering..

That…

Had been what his opponent…

Was hoping for.

Impulse’s mind didn’t quite catch up until he found himself stuck, until he tasted the metallic sting of blood in his mouth. His eyes fell from his opponent to the blade buried in his chest, the sword having run him through, his shirt quickly darkening as it soaked up his life’s blood. As he glanced back up again he could feel blood bubbling over his lips and he drew in ragged breaths. There was a far too satisfied smirk on the cruel man’s face.

“I thought gods didn’t  _ bleed _ .” His tone was darkly pleased, his lips curling in amusement. Before Impulse could give a response, despite his wish to, the man started twisting the blade, leaving Impulse to snarl in pain instead. The next thing he knew there was a boot to his chest and he was being shoved.

He staggered back, dropping to his knees. The blade had been pulled free, the world spun in pain, heat and smoke. His eyes struggled to find a place to focus, somehow he took note of the ash and blood coating the ground. Smoke stung his nose, blood rose and bubbled with each labored breath, he felt light headed. Still, somehow the glint of steel caught his eyes and he looked up. The blade glittered in the firelight, wet with dark blood. Impulse realized all at once that the strike his opponent… his murderer was lining up for, would take his head from its place.

Impulse sucked in a wet, smoke filled breath, despair reaching out of the darkness to drag his heart down. He stared his impending doom in the eyes, waiting for the decisive strike he could do nothing to stop. The forest was burning, Tango had not shown himself since the cave’s collapse… Zedaph would be alone after this, if he survived whatever was happening in the village.

How quickly everything had gone from bliss to woe.

Impulse’s heart ached for those lost moments, the calm summer evenings filled with sparkling stars and cricket song. The cozy winter mornings all snuggled under a mound of blankets. The realization that his life was about to be stripped away, leaving a life better than any heaven behind, that cut deeper than any sword, hurt more than any wound. It tore through him like a blade of ice that ran his blood cold. As he closed his eyes, silently accepting his end… he heard snapping twigs under running footsteps.

His eyes snapped back open just in time to see none other than the priestess, purple dress singed, hair loose and flowing. She rammed right into him, shoulder first and knocked the man down. Though she fell with him, having thrown all her force into the tackle. His sword clattered down to the earth with a heavy thud.

Impulse blinked in surprise, watching as the two fought, as blows were traded, as both got to their feet to continue. He’d swing, she’d duck, landing a few quick strikes of her own. She wasn’t as strong though and soon the prick landed a heavy enough strike on the priestess to knock her down again. She hit the altar hard, crying out in pain as she crumpled against it. The man put his boot against her chest and leaned heavily against her, it looked very painful.

“Where are your gods now, little witch?” He growled at her, somehow those words ringing loud and clear in Impulse’s ears even as others started to fade. The fire was edging ever closer, the air was filled with smoke, breathing was difficult. Yet those words hit Impulse hard, the heat around him bringing the bubbling rage back up to the surface, the orange glow dancing over the fight before him bringing it into sharp detail.

She snarled at her aggressor, moving in a fast fluid motion, she took the knife from her belt and buried it in the man’s leg, ripping it downwards.

He howled in agony and fell back, allowing her to push up to her feet.

“My gods are always with me.” She snapped, breathless, pained, but steadfast in her faith. Faith so strong, even with the forest ablaze, even with the god of the grove vanished in a collapsed cave, even with her presumed other god on his knees and bleeding out.

Even through all of that…

She still believed.

She still had faith.

_ She still had hope. _

Impulse couldn’t explain what that stirred in him, he couldn’t explain the feeling that roared forth in a whirlwind, it was something new. Something entirely it’s own. Whatever it was though, it brought with him the strength to stand, it brought with it the strength to  _ hope. _ He drew in a breath, squaring his shoulders. He followed the feeling stirring within him, he followed it like an instinct.

He threw back his head.

And he howled.

He howled with the strength of the wind itself, the sound radiating out with such intensity it felt like his entire body would rattle apart under the sheer force. It was deafening, it sounded inhuman. The impossible sound ripping out from his throat like thunder. When finally the long winded call ended his eyes fell back to the combatants. The priestess stood, straight backed and squared shoulders. Head high and expression confident, knowing. The fool who came to this mountain with the intent to destroy it was on his knees, one leg too damaged to stand on, sword out of reach, shoulder and arm wounded. Impulse met the man’s eyes and he saw the deepest level of fear there, as if the man’s entire world had been shaken to its core.

The wind had picked up, as if the sky itself had gone into a rage, clouds darkening the sky and thunder rolling out like another wolf howling back. Lightning flashed, arcing and crackling, thunder rolling out again with every flash. Then the whole clearing lit up in a bright, white hot flash, the sound so boisterous that it was staggering. Once the light faded though the sight left behind was not one for the faint of heart. There was a deep burn on the ground itself, where the man once stood there was now nothing but ash. The priestess stood unafraid, looking quite pleased.

Impulse breathed a heavy, ragged sigh, one that drew more blood with it. The feeling of victory was short-lived as Impulse felt his energy quickly drain; as if everything he’d had was stolen away in a blink. He was more exhausted than exhaustion itself, he wavered on his feet, pained and uncertain how he was even standing. Smoke stung his eyes, the pungent smell of it reminding him that the forest was burning… that Tango was missing, that Zedaph’s fate was unknown. The next breath he tried to breath was wrecked with a sob, one that shook him off balance and he dropped to his knees, tears rolling down his face. Just as his knees struck the ashen ground, another sound fell around him, heavy and strong like the thunder before it. Like the source of it itself, an absolute blanket of impossibly heavy rain poured down, as if the sky was grieving with him. The clearing suddenly goes dark as it’s source of light is snuffed out entirely. The fire succumbing to the torrential downpour in mere seconds. The rain falling cold and hard, as if it carried the very weight of his heart with it.

With his strength gone, with his hope spent, his body left feeling like it would simply stop at any breath. Impulse fell to the ground, staring up at the sky as the rain poured down around him. He could feel the muddy ash being splattered all over himself and he had neither the energy nor the strength to care. Each breath was more struggle than the last and he could feel a heavier darkness closing in. He felt the very energy of his life fading from his body with each passing, weakening beat of his heart.

As the darkness closed in, all Impulse could hope was that Tango would be alright, that the priestess’ faith was well placed. That Zedaph was safe… that the two would have each other. That was his hope as darkness…

Darkness…

Darkness was pushed aside. A soft light from a source he couldn’t see arose, but it was enough to see a form kneel beside him, enough to see as the priestess bowed her head in prayer, right at his side. He couldn’t make out her words, the world still trying to blur away… but then as he glanced past her, to the sky, he saw the glowing visage of a deer with golden fur. With piercing red eyes and antlers adorned with stones. He saw that face as it materialized out of the steam wafting from the trees. One last thought crossed his mind.

_ He’s so pretty. _

Then the world went entirely dark.

\--

“Is… is he going to be alright?”

“I can heal him.”

“What about you? You’re a mess!”

“I will live, the grove isn’t gone, it will recover and so shall I.”

“But you said-”

“Healing mortals has a cost. Yes. It is one I gladly paid for you and one I’ll gladly pay again, even in this state.”

“What… what exactly is that cost?”

“...”

\--

Impulse blinked his eyes open slowly, his vision blurry. Wherever he was, it was filled with light and comfort. He drew in a long, slow breath, expecting it to be wet and painful but it was neither. To his surprise, it was comfortable, easily as much as the place he was laying. Confusion muddled his mind and he reached up to wipe his eyes to chase the bleariness away. Blinking again, then he looked around…

He was home.

The cabin exactly as it had been left. He was in bed, alone.

No.

Not alone.

Cinnabin was laying on his chest. His tamed wolves were scattered on and near the bed. Gently he reached up to pet the fox. They stirred at this touch before moving to nuzzle his face. It became obvious that even the mischievous fox had worried about him. Gently he wrapped an arm around them and moved to sit up. Once upright he gave Cinnabin a few gentle pets then set them down in his lap. With a frown he pulled up his shirt to investigate his chest, where he knew he’d been run through. There, marring his skin, was a subtle scar, much like the ones Zedaph bore after being impaled. Impaled… and healed by Tango. He remembered then, the last vision before him as he’d felt his life slipping away.

Carefully he shifted Cinnabin off his lap and flung himself out of bed. Stumbling past several wolves and managing not to step on a single one. He leaned on the wall separating the bedroom and main room once he reached it, still tired. His body ached as if he'd used muscles and spent energy he hadn't known he had. It was confusing but he dismissed it as side effects of being part of such a big battle. With that thought shoved aside he took in the sight before him. Of Tango lounging on the couch, his glow was dim, his hair and antlers missing a bit of luster. Impulse was worried but the god was at least alive. Zedaph was across the room putting away dishes but when he glanced Impulse's way, the chore was quickly abandoned.

Zedaph practically ran across the room and Impulse pushed away from the wall a few steps to catch him, wrapping his arms around him and sinking into the embrace. He noticed Tango look their way as Zedaph clung almost desperately to Impulse. Impulse held Zedaph just as tight and slowly Tango rose from where he'd been laying. His movements were stiff and looked slightly pained, as if the god was truly exhausted but had been still a little too long. Despite that Tango was soon wrapping both of them in a tight hug, resting face against Impulse's head. Impulse snuggled into the comforting embrace of both his lovers, drawing in a deep the warm scent of them, such a far cry from the burning woods. Impulse felt he could truly relax, that life was no longer in danger of being stolen from any of them.

It was the three of them again, safe, happy. All he wanted was this moment of feeling them close, of their arms wrapped around him, of Zedaph’s face snuggled in the cook of his neck and Tango’s breath ghosting through his hair. He just held to the two of them and they held him in return, his heart warmed as the stress of worry faded away. He could feel the tension drain out of his own shoulders and he let out a contented sigh. Not a word was shared between them but words weren’t needed, actions spoke more than enough. Impulse was more than ready for things to return to their comfortable routine.

Return it did.

Things somewhat fell back into place as if nothing had happened, though Tango did show signs of the maiming the mountain suffered. The fires had reached nearly half way up the mountain, consuming much of the forest on that side. The village had suffered greatly as well, and thus Tango gave up  _ more _ trees so that they could rebuild. Despite how exhausted, how drained the god seemed, he at least didn’t seem to be in pain anymore. He moved around less and often didn’t leave the cabin, only mustering up the will to leave when Impulse and Zedaph did. It was on one of those walks through the woods, through the burned and charred area that Tango started pointing out new growth, it gave Impulse a bit more hope.

Steadily.

Steadily…

The forest recovered.

It was slow, the trees spreading back down the mountainside, the unburned areas lush while the rest rushed to catch up. As it all recovered though, so did Tango. He gained back his energy with each passing season, each change in the cycle he seemed closer and closer to what he’d been before. The people’s faith in their three gods only seemed to grow as well, confusing Impulse more than a little. He’d nearly died right in front of the priestess, how could they still believe he was a god, not to mention how very mortal Zedaph’s help had been. It was confusing, perplexing, but he just accepted it. After all, Tango had seemed comfortable enough with it. Eventually came the day that Impulse could hardly find a sign of the roaring blaze. The day the trees towered far over his head, when rain and snow had washed all char from the boulders and moss grew anew. When again bees filled the air in the summer days and fireflies in the evenings, when again flowers coated the mountain from foot to nearly its peak.

That’s when Impulse knew and was certain that all was well again.

Again not a day passed by without Tango’s bright smile, he once again strode through the forest with strength and power, like the god he was. Impulse would have it no other way, he was happy, finally able to revel in the bliss of his life. And a life it was, he could say for certain, so close to losing it all there was no doubt in his mind that this was reality.

He was alive.

It was all real.

And it was the greatest life he could have ever wished for.

He wasn’t sure how many seasons passed once things settled back into the norm when he went out into the woods on his own. He just wanted to walk the forest with the wolves for a while, to enjoy the absolute beauty that was the mountain. It was peaceful, a soft breeze caressing the evergreens, making the flowers and grasses in the clearings sway in a wave. There was birdsong and bees buzzing through the air. Before he knew it, he realized he’d waltzed right into the clearing with the altar, almost as if he’d been drawn there by some other force. He glanced the place over, standing stones with carved runes, the stone altar adorned with years of melted wax, candle after candle simply replacing the last. A scattering of stones in the same splay of colors as the ones on Tango’s antlers were settled on a fine woven silk cloth. There were three carved stone figures at the center back of the altar, a wolf, a ram and between them, a stag.

Kneeling at the front of that altar, was an old woman. She had once had black hair, but it had nearly all gone silver now. Her purple dress was finely made and had enough adornments to mark her as a village elder, well respected and loved. While her skin was thin and wrinkled her emerald green eyes held a sharp luster. There was sharp wit to accompany years of wisdom, a knowingness and kindness but also tenacity. Something about her seemed so familiar, yet she was too old to be either of the people she brought to mind. Surely then, she must be family to Gertrude and the priestess.

Still, he felt drawn, so he moved closer to the altar, until he was standing behind it, directly in the woman’s line of sight. She looked up at him, there was a respect there, but also a deep fondness.

“I am ever honored to see you again, Master of Winds, Mighty Wolf.” She said, her voice cracked with age but revenant. Impulse inclined his head politely, still not sure how exactly to pretend he was a god when he wasn’t.

“You’ve seen me before?” He asked, arching a brow but guessing it had to have been during the fight to reclaim the village from those that sought to destroy the mountain.

“Many times, the first being when I was a little girl. Sad and afraid and very, very lost.” She explained, that look in her eye more all-knowing than he felt was fair.

“Little… girl…” Impulse frowned, remembering only one, it hadn’t been that long ago… had it?

“Yes, and then I was graced with your presence again when all hope started to fade. I was a priestess for many years then already, but despite being a woman filled with fire, I was not enough to cast away those intruders on my own. You, your wolves, your storm, you saved us. I have thanked you many times before, but I will say it again. Thank you, Mighty Wolf.” She said and it all steadily fell into place. As she bowed her head he reached up quickly to feel of his own face, to check for aged skin and wrinkles, but his face was still smooth with youth.

Quickly he dropped his hand but he couldn’t shake the look of disbelief he knew was holding his features. His mind felt like it had stopped, scrambling to count the amount of seasonal cycles that had passed since finding little Gertrude in the woods and sending her home. He heard a soft cackle, the most witchy sound he’d ever heard and his attention fell back to the old woman… to… Gertrude. There was a fond smile on her face, a twinkle in her eyes.

“Time truly flows differently for the gods, doesn’t it?” She asked, sounding quite amused.

“How… how many mortal years has it been?” He asked, unable to hold back the question.

“Oh, goodness… I was but a small thing wasn’t I? It’s been… well at least over seventy.” She answered and Impulse felt like he’d been slapped in the face by the very universe.

“I…. suppose it does.” He admitted, it felt impossible, like it had not been that long and yet he couldn’t refute the evidence right before his eyes.

All at once he remembered the way the wolves started answering to him, the way the storm answered his call during that fight, the decisive strike of lighting. It all fell into place, it came to one clear answer and he wasn’t sure how it was even possible or how to accept it. He looked back to the priestess, to Gertrude, the old woman before him.

“You called me here for a reason, please, let me hear your prayer.” He requested softly, shoving his surprise aside long enough to try and uphold the duty he apparently had. She smiled warmly.

“I’ve come to ask for guidance. There are three equally capable young ones who aspire to fill my place, I am not sure who to choose.” She explained and Impulse looked back down at the altar, to the three statues there, then back to her.

“There’s three gods, is there not? You have carried a tremendous burden on your own for many, many years. Let them share it, let them carry the weight and the joy in equal measure. Let them dedicate themselves to each of the three that they feel most drawn to, as carrying through life in equal joy and love is something I know all three of us will stand for.” Impulse suggested, feeling confident in his words.

“Ah, you are most wise, Master of Winds. That does seem the most fitting solution.” She smiled, seeming more at ease with that issue sorted.

“Might I ask their names?” Impulse requested.

“Stress, False and Cleo. They will make fine priestesses.” Gertrude promised.

Impulse gave an appreciative nod before turning to vanish into the woods themselves. As he walked though, he thought over the revelation again, of the fact that not only had he not aged, but he seemed to have command of the wind much like Gertrude had said, so…

He closed his eyes and howled, softly, with a clear thought in mind of what he wanted. When he opened his eyes again, he found himself standing before the cabin, soft summer breeze dancing back down to stillness around him. He smiled to himself, somewhat nervous but also excited as he stepped through the door. He wondered if Tango knew, if Zedaph had realized, as Impulse knew Zedaph hadn’t aged a day either. However when he stepped inside he found the cabin empty, there was a note laying on the table though. He picked it up, reading that Tango and Zedaph had gone up to the sacred grove.

The grove that mortals could not reach.

But then, Impulse wasn’t a mortal anymore, was he?

Slipping back out of the cabin Impulse focused on that feeling deep within, the one the Priestess had stirred so many years back, following instinct to guide him through what he wished. The power flowed naturally, as if it had always been a part of him and soon he stood at a height where his chin brushed the tops of the trees and his paws carried him up the steep, dangerous mountainside. He climbed up into the sacred grove of his own accord. There, lazing in the grass was Tango and Zedaph, Cinnabin, the near dozen tamed wolves and two adorable sheep. It was then Impulse noticed something he’d not seen before. Something he’d not realized was there, but on Zedaph’s head, curling down the sides to frame his ears, were ram’s horns. They looked up at Impulse as he approached and Tango smiled.

“About time you caught on.” There was a playful teasing in his tone.

“How long have you two known?” Impulse asked, returning to his more mortal looking form and settling in the grass beside them.

“Since Tango healed you.” Zedaph explained.

“Honestly I thought you had it figured out on your own, with the way you were using your godly powers before your body was fully able to handle them. You almost destroyed your mortal coil, you know.” Tango explained and Impulse blinked in surprise.

“Yeah, we nearly lost you.” Zedaph nodded.

“You’re a natural, but it almost cost you your life.” Tango added.

“A… natural?” Impulse felt rather confused.

“It’s taken me a lot longer to master my powers and it wasn’t until after you used yours that we even realized what was going on.” Zedaph explained.

“So… what’s the difference? How is it I’m fully a god now if not before?” Impulse asked.

“The answer is the same as the cost of healing a mortal. It takes a bit of the god themselves, it’s a little sacrifice. That little bit of power, paired with the love of mine, the constant closeness and the faith of my followers… it made you both gods.” Tango explained and Impulse glanced to the scattering of sleeping pets.

“Constant closeness… a bit of love…” Impulse said.

“Stops aging.” Tango confirmed.

“But the deeper love, the faith…” Zedaph added.

“Grants powers.” Tango nodded.

“And then that bit of yourself, the cost to heal me, to heal Zed…” Impulse looked back to Tango.

“That’s the last piece of the puzzle, that power that makes you undying, impervious to harm. I didn’t know any of this before… but Zedaph was right, it was worth the risk to love you both.” Tango said warmly, Zedaph moving to wrap Tango in a hug.

“You’ll never be alone if you don’t want to be, not ever again.” Zedaph said softly and Impulse’s heart melted a little at the sight.

There was a certain level of peace that this knowledge brought though and Impulse was more than pleased. Pleased to know he’d never be leaving Tango and Zedaph behind, that neither would leave him behind.

They had each other.

For all eternity. 

Impulse snuggled into the middle of his two lovers with a smile, hugging them but then a question tugged at his mind.

“Why didn’t you tell me?”

“It was funnier to see how long it took you to figure it out.” Zedaph chuckled and Impulse let out an exasperated sigh. He couldn’t hold it against either of them though, not with Tango trailing a line of kisses down his neck. He was more intent on just soaking in every beautiful, happy, loving moment as it came, as he had been for so long now.

That…

That was how the God of the Grove…

Found love for all time, perhaps even past the existence of time itself.


End file.
